Dumbledore's Army
by BlueGryphon
Summary: Dumbledore recruits Muggle born kids whose parents haven't allowed them to go to Hogwarts into an army to use against Voldemort. The final battle is approaching, and Zeph and his friends must be ready.
1. Default Chapter

Zeph was a fairly ordinary boy, the sort that most of you will know. He was ten years old and small for his age. As most kids do because of the law, he went to school every weekday, rain or shine, and had since he was four years old. Zeph's favourite possession was his prized computer - he loved computer games and spent all weekend playing them. That's what he was doing at the moment when his mother yelled,  
"Zephyr Angelo Raphael Granville-Barker! Come down here this instant! If you've been playing on that computer again, turn it off immediately. You know I've banned you for the week."  
  
Zeph groaned. If there was one thing he hated about himself, it was his name. If there was one thing he hated about his mother it was her attitude to computer games. Why on earth had his parents saddled him with a name like that anyway? Angelo appeared on all of his school things, and he was nothing like an angel. Worse, he was teased about it constantly. It fitted the other grand names they'd given him, but did absolutely nothing for his personal image. It was even worse than his much-missed brother's name: Godric (a traditional name in his mother's family) Peregrine Lysander Granville-Barker. That wasn't too bad - not like Angelo, which looked so much like Angel. It had been Rick that had shortened their names to Zeph and Rick - their parents would never have dreamed of it. There was no one who called him Zeph now - it seemed the name was as dead as his brother. Still, there was no avoiding it now that authority (his mother) had spoken.  
  
She was waiting for him in the kitchen. Her thin body tense was with anger, and she clutched a letter in her bony fist.  
"Is this some kind of a joke you and your friends are playing?" she demanded. "What do you know about it?" Zeph took the envelope she was brandishing at him; not bothering to inform her as he had in the past that a weedy kid like him, especially one called Zephyr Angelo, would never have friends at his school. He opened it and pulled out a letter. It was addressed to him.  
  
Dear Mr. Z Granville-Barker,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If you are interested in this opportunity, please contact us by no later than the 31st of July. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term will begin on 1 September.  
Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress  
  
Zeph stared at it in amazement, then turned to his mother.  
"What does it mean? I mean, wizards don't exist- everyone knows that these days."  
"Of course they don't," his mother snapped at him, sounding unusually rattled. "So long as you don't know anything about it, we'll just ignore it - it's just someone trying to be funny."  
"Yes Mother," Zeph said, dismissing it instantly from his mind.  
"Good, now go and weed the vegetable patch." Zeph sighed, there was obviously no hope at all for his game to continue for a while now that his existence had been brought to the forefront of his mother's mind.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
That evening, Fred Granville-Barker was summoned into the dining room as  
soon as he got home from work. He'd much rather have been watching the  
television, but it was more than his life was worth to disobey a direct instruction from his authoritarian wife. He looked at the letter wearily,  
tired after his long day. Then he looked up at her, shocked.  
"Not again!"  
"Unfortunately I believe it is. That is an identical letter. They obviously haven't realized how dangerous these children are to everyone- they're a public hazard! Zephyr is not going to end up the same way as his delinquent brother. We couldn't even bury him properly!" she said, starting to get somewhat tearful despite her harsh words.  
  
"The sooner we stamp it out of him the better, I say," Fred said hurriedly, hoping to cut her off before she could start getting hysterical as she did relatively often. "He's our only child now, so we can't afford to get it wrong. Don't let him out of your sight until you're sure that he's free of that disease. I suppose I'd better take him off your hands and look after him at the weekends, not that the little brat will be any use to me. Wasn't your sister similarly affected?"  
"She was, all right. She killed our father in front of me!"  
"What?" her husband replied, rather startled. "Is it safe to have the brat in the house."  
"Don't worry, Frederick dear, she'd always hated him. A right little mama's baby she was. One day, we were out for a family expedition, a lovely little country walk, so bracing you know. She blew him off the top of a cliff. I know it must have been her, because there was no wind at all, and he was standing at least three feet from the edge. Then suddenly, suddenly he wasn't there any more. I'm glad the shameless girl was murdered. She deserved it."  
"Murdered! Why haven't you told me this before? Didn't you think I should have known about all this?"  
"No, it didn't really concern you. We both hated each other on principle as long as I can remember. After I was five and she was seven, we didn't say a word to each other unless our parents specifically told us to. She just vanished one day and was never seen again, much to my relief. It happens all the time. You'd know that if you watched the news like I keep telling you to."  
  
Fred took a deep breath.  
  
"I've told you before, time and time again. I do not watch the news like your sainted father, may his soul rest in peace, did, because I'm too busy."  
"I'm sorry, dear, I'm just getting a bit emotional. It's the shock, I believe, it gets to me, you know that Frederick." 


	2. Chapter 2

The next weekend, Zeph and his father looked at each other warily across the breakfast table.  
"May I be excused please," Zeph asked, deciding to risk it.  
"Not yet, Zephyr," his father replied sternly. "Your mother hasn't finished eating yet. You know that it isn't polite. I was thinking that we could do something together today. Your dear mother suggested that we make a weather vane for the shed roof. It would make a nice ornament if it was well done, and I don't trust those shoddy, shop affairs." Zeph looked at him, looked at his mother and hastily agreed,  
"That sounds great dad, really great."  
"Don't call him 'dad', Zephyr dear," his mother said. "You know he doesn't like it."  
"Sorry Mother, sorry Father. I apologize for my rudeness."  
  
Zeph thought longingly about his brother while he waited impatiently for his mother to finish her fifth slice of toast. Rick had always been so kind to him - and even their father had liked him. He had been tall for his age, muscular, with blond hair that had been bleached by the sun on their holiday to Australia that Christmas, and blue eyes that twinkled with happiness the whole time. Zeph remembered his favourite green sweatshirt and baggy jeans. The younger boy had them now, but he never wore them. They hung by themselves in the wardrobe, along with everything else Zeph had of his. Godric been kind, helpful, brotherly, a real friend to his younger brother. Rick had been older by five years, so Zeph had been small when he had died, but he could still remember how happy the house had been.  
  
One day, Rick had left for school in the morning, just as he had done every day. He went to the local comprehensive then, and he had a huge crowd of friends that were always in and out of the house. The first Zeph knew about his death was when he hadn't returned from school at four o'clock as he normally had. Rick had promised to help him build a model aeroplane with him, so Zeph had been waiting eagerly by the door. At five, his mother had rung the police. Zeph hadn't understood what was happening until the memorial service they'd held in the church. All they'd ever found of his beloved brother had been his old leather school shoes and satchel. It was assumed that the body had been dropped into the river and swept out to sea with the tide. Nothing had been the same since.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A few months later, Zeph was helping his father fix the new weather vane to their shed roof. They'd spent the whole summer (or at least the whole summer since the mysterious letter came) making it together. It hadn't been nearly so boring as Zeph had anticipated, and he'd even begun to enjoy it and like being with his father.  
  
Fred was perched precariously on the roof, waiting with a hammer to nail the product of their labors onto the stout post they'd attached for it. Zeph climbed nimbly up the ladder, the strange, chicken shaped weather vane clutched in one hand, and handed it proudly to his father. A few blows to the nails and it was on. Zeph looked at it, very pleased with the result  
"It's very good, Zephyr, isn't it?" his father said, looking happy for once. "If only we had some wind today, then we could see that it worked properly. Still, we mustn't be disappointed. Maybe tomorrow will be more favorable in the way of wind.  
  
Zeph was thinking wistfully that based on today's dead calm, there was no chance of wind today or tomorrow, when his dad suddenly clutched desperately for the edge of the shed. Fred threw himself flat on his face on the roof of the little structure, as if buffeted strongly by a sudden gust of wind. The new weather vane was torn violently from its secure fastenings and Zeph watched, amazed and horrified, as it smashed beyond repair on the ground. Then it was calm again. He hadn't felt a thing, and couldn't understand what was happening.  
"How could you do that, boy?!" his father screamed at him from about ten centimeters away, climbing roughly down the ladder. "You almost killed me! What are you, some freak! You should be in a mental home! You're as bad as your aunt; if I thought the police would believe me, I'd have you sent to prison, believe me I would!"  
  
Zeph stared at him. What had he done wrong? It had all been going so well until then and now he was suddenly being blamed for something he hadn't done. He'd never try to kill his father, never, however much he disliked him, would he? Zeph took a shaky step back from his father's red, angry face, burst into tears and fled inside, up the stairs to his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him and wedged it shut. His father was raging downstairs - he could hear him.  
  
The boy cried himself out with his head buried in his pillow to muffle the sounds. He wouldn't give his parents that satisfaction. When the pillow was soggy, and he was finally calmed down, although with a splitting headache and sore, swollen eyes, he made up his mind. He was obviously not wanted here at all, so he'd leave, right now. He found his large school rucksack and packed some clothes and the total content of his piggy bank. Then he slipped down the stairs, past the dining room door where sounds of his mother having hysterics and his father shouting could be clearly heard, and out the front door.  
  
Zeph wandered mournfully down to the local park. It was quiet today, probably because of the wet, grey, cold weather. The plain grassy field that composed most of the so-called park was deserted but for a solitary keeper miserably mowing the shaggy grass. The ducks had the pond to themselves and the playground in the corner had only a single mother and child there, both well wrapped up against the chilly October rain. A drop of water trickled down Zeph's nose as he sat on one of the cold, graffiti covered metal benches. He shivered. If only he had a better mackintosh, or better still an umbrella. It was too late now, but he'd only just discovered that his old coat leaked quite badly.  
  
It was lonely, just sitting there on his own. Zeph could feel his feet and hands starting to go numb. He set his shoulders grimly. He wouldn't go back now, they didn't want him and there was nothing for him there. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I forgot to do one for the first two chapters. Anything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling. Everything else belongs to me. This applies to everything in this story (I'm not typing another disclaimer).  
  
The sun was setting, rather half-heartedly, when Zeph sneezed violently. He looked around curiously, now out of his thoughtless daze. A small boy had sat down next to him. He didn't really look old enough to be out alone, but hey, who actually cared? Zeph wasn't in reality allowed to be there at that time of day, but he was. Anyway, Zeph had enough problems of his own to worry about without starting on someone else's.  
  
Suddenly, the kid spoke. Zeph looked at him, surprised. The boy's feet weren't even touching the ground, but he had the guts to talk to a twelve- year-old?  
"Are you okay?" What an odd question to begin with, but Zeph was too miserable to notice.  
"Oh, yeah," he said sarcastically. "I've just run away from home, I'm freezing my butt off but I'm absolutely fine thank you, as you can see."  
"Got somewhere to stay?"  
"Of course. well, no, not really."  
"I know a place you'd be welcome, if you'll come with me. It's perfectly safe, I promise, my dad likes me to bring kids home."  
"Are you sure I'd be allowed?"  
"Of course."  
  
Without another word, he pushed himself onto the floor with a splash as he landed feet first in a puddle, splashing all the way up his trousers. Zeph looked at him carefully. It had been drilled into him since he was old enough to understand that he must never go anywhere with a stranger, but then, what harm could a seven-year-old kid do him? Besides, Zeph had nowhere else to go, so he might as well risk it. He stood up, all doubts forgotten, and followed his young saviour from the park.  
  
Zeph was led unhesitatingly into the oldest part of the city, where huge, ancient houses towered domineeringly over them. It was all grey here: no trees on the street, no grass verges and no gardens. Unquestioningly, the boy turned into the short drive of one and trotted quickly up the steps leading to the front door. He rang the bell. Zeph followed him up, rather more cautiously, and was there just as the door was pulled swiftly open and Zeph and the boy stepped in. The boy shut the door behind him, took off his coat and hung it on a peg set low in the wall. The girl who had opened the door glanced at Zeph sympathetically. She was, perhaps, a few years older than Zeph, and looked wiry and tough, but had a friendly, welcoming grin.  
"This is Willow," the small boy said. "I'm Cub."  
"Good to have you," the girl said. "You're a wizard, aren't you?" Zeph stared at her- if he'd been expecting to be asked anything, this most definitely wasn't it.  
"I suppose, yes, but."  
"Great! Cub isn't usually wrong, but its good to be sure. I'm more abrupt than anyone else is, so I tend just to ask. Welcome to the unofficial school of witchcraft and wizardry. We call it the Lost Boys' school, though some of us are girls, 'cause pretty much all of us are runaways. Come upstairs, Cub's dad is making supper and he'll want to see you."  
  
Zeph stared at her in amazement, openmouthed. She hadn't even asked his name, or who he was, where he'd come from. But food - he bounded up after her without a second thought.  
  
They entered a large kitchen and Zeph looked around curiously. He'd never seen a kitchen on the first floor of a house before, let alone one in so strange a house as this one seemed to be. It was a pretty huge room. There was a single long table along the middle, and a few other children were sitting around it working. They were all probably teenagers, and all had the same tough look he'd seen on Willow. A clock on the wall told him unquestionably that it was seven o'clock - he'd been in the park for four whole hours!  
  
A tired looking man in what looked to Zeph like an extremely battered dressing gown was pouring pasta into a pan of water. Beside him, three knives were slicing the vegetables. Zeph swung round and stared at them. They were chopping by themselves!!!!!!!!! The man looked up at him, then said quietly.  
"Go through to the common room, Peter, and the rest of you. We have a new guest, and we need to talk in private."  
  
The adolescents at the table looked inquisitively at Zeph and left, one ruffling Cub's mop of dark brown hair as he went. Willow followed them out, automatically, scooping up a pile of papers from the table as she went.  
  
"Cub, go back to normal please."  
"Aw dad." Cub groaned. Then, much to Zeph's amazement, the tiny child frowned slightly, his body wavered and he wasn't there any more. The body sprouted up and became slightly taller than Zeph himself. He'd lost the cute teddy bear sweatshirt he'd been wearing too, and appeared to be only a year or two older than Zeph himself. Zeph stared at him. He had neatly trimmed sandy brown hair and an amused smile as he noticed Zeph's obvious surprise.  
"That's magic?" Zeph stammered.  
"Yes," said Cub. "I'm a meta. meta."  
"Metamorphmagus," said his father indulgently.  
"That's it, thanks dad. I never could remember it or say it. Anyway, it means I can change what I look like. Do you need me, dad?"  
"I don't think so, not here, anyway. You can go and sort out a bed for our new student if you're feeling helpful. You don't mind being in a dormitory, do you?" he asked Zeph anxiously.  
"Uh, no not at all"  
"Cool," Cub said, smiling. "I'll see you later then, at supper probably." He bounded out of the room, leaving Zeph with what seemed to be the only adult in the house. Zeph was shaking with nerves, what if he couldn't stay? From what he'd seen of this place, it was great. They all seemed happy, well fed, and were learning magic! The man, however, seemed perfectly friendly. He sat down on the bench on one side of the table, and Zeph copied him.  
  
"Now, welcome to the school, son. You can call me Wolf; I'm pretty much the only teacher here, unless we have guests. We don't tend to use our real names here, because this school is in many ways illegal in the wizarding world to which we all belong. Do you have a nickname we could use? You can choose anything you like - we've got Cub, Willow, Storm, Rocky, Peter, Kent - that was where he came from - and all sorts."  
"My. my brother used to call me Zeph. Z-E-P-H."  
"That's great, easy to remember. Now, I expect you're wondering why you're here. You're a wizard, Zeph, and you need to learn to use your magic or it's a danger to you and those around you. Did you know about magic before I mentioned it?"  
"I got a letter a while ago, and I think my aunt and brother had magic. They died."  
"I'm sorry. That's always sad, but it happens all too often. Were you on the Hogwarts list?" Zeph nodded, thinking back to the letter that had started it all.  
"Then I can sort that out easily," Wolf continued. "There are only two main rules here, you'll find, and both are easy to follow. The first is to never talk about magic to a Muggle - that's a non-wizard like your family must have been - and never to use magic where they might be able to see it. The second is never to do magic when you aren't wearing this."  
  
Wolf pulled a small badge out of one of his patched pockets. It was bright red, with a stylized picture of a bird on it.  
"The bird is a phoenix," the teacher explained. "It's a magical creature that's greatly prized as a friend among wizards. The badge itself will stop you from being detected as an underage wizard by the Ministry of Magic. Oh, and one last thing before I leave you to settle in. Please, read this, and memorize it. That won't be hard, the paper is charmed to help it stick in your brain."  
  
Zeph took the small slip of paper he was holding out and looked at it. It was very tatty and worn.  
  
No. 12 Grimwald Place is the Headquarters  
of the Order of the Phoenix  
  
"Got that?" Wolf asked. "If anything should happen here, go there immediately and say you're one of the Lost Boys, they'll know what you mean. I think that's all. I hope you'll be happy with us, I think most boys are, and you seem to me like you'll fit in nicely. If you ever need anything, just ask." Wolf picked up the piece of paper and tucked it away again. Then he sprung back to his cooking with a curse as the water started to boil. Zeph grinned, then looked around the kitchen. There was nothing he could do there and no kids in the room at all. He picked up his bag, and wandered back to the landing.  
  
Zeph could see that another flight of stairs extended further up into the huge house, but there was another door opposite the kitchen that he decided it would be better to try first. He pushed it open, and peered around the door, rather shyly. It was another huge room, with a fire cracking cheerfully in a huge fireplace set in the center of the wall opposite. Great portraits hung proudly around the walls and a long, thin table was pushed against the wall to Zeph's right. A few people were sitting there, working, but most of them were sprawled around the room, either on the floor or on the worn red sofas and armchairs, reading or talking. Red and gold sparks shot up from a huddle in the corner. Zeph counted hurriedly. There were fourteen boys there and five girls, and they were all ages from his own up to the late teens.  
  
Cub saw him standing there from where he was curled comfortably up in an armchair near the fire. He waved.  
"Come over!" he called above the hum of voices. Zeph walked over somewhat reluctantly. Cub was with a few others of about their own age.  
"So, what're you called?" the wizard boy asked.  
"Zeph."  
"Cool name, we've already told you that I'm Cub and this is Willow. She's fourteen now, and I'm practically thirteen. Those are Storm and Rocky who're twelve. They came in last summer, so they've only been here a couple of months."  
  
Zeph looked at them carefully; he was determined that he'd make a good start by remembering them. Storm was tall and muscular, looking much older than his reputed twelve years. His blond hair flopped casually over his deep blue eyes. In Zeph's school, old school now he supposed, a kid like Storm wouldn't have looked twice at scrawny Zeph, let alone seem happy to be his mate, but Storm seemed open and as welcoming as everyone else Zeph had met so far. Rocky was a completely different kind of kid, with wavy black hair curling down his neck and soft brown eyes. They were all looking at him sociably, and Zeph felt he should really say something.  
"I'm really pleased to be here," he said, feeling embarrassed at such a silly line. "But what exactly do we do?"  
"Heaps of stuff," Storm told him - a totally unhelpful answer so far as Zeph was concerned. Cub looked at him scathingly.  
"He meant what sort of routine do we have, didn't you Zeph?"  
"I guess."  
"Well, we have breakfast at about eight every morning, then we do lessons until lunchtime. After lunch, we're allowed to go out until about five then we have to come back and either do prep or have another lesson before supper. After that, we can do what we want so long as we've finished our work.  
"We only have lessons in the morning?" Zeph asked incredulously.  
"It's enough," Cub replied darkly. "A good four hours, not counting prep."  
"And they aren't boring," Rocky put in eagerly. "It's not like we do the same stuff everyday like at my old school. Defense Against the Dark Arts is the best, I think."  
"You would, kid," Willow said condescendingly. "Just because Wolf let you finish off the Boggart this morning. Anyway, I think you should all let Zeph find out about the lessons for himself - he's looking totally baffled by you already, not that I'm surprised. I'm going to help Kent now, before he blows himself up." She strode off with great dignity just as Wolf put his head around the door.  
"Dinner time!"  
"Coming!" came from various places around the room as they tidied away their things.  
  
They poured through back into the kitchen and took seats on the benches along the two long sides of the table, everyone eagerly piling their plates full from the large dishes in the center. Zeph cautiously served himself some pasta with a dollop of sauce and tasted it tentatively.  
"Do you like it?" Wolf asked. Zeph nodded emphatically, stuffing another mouthful into his mouth. The wizard beamed at him and asked Storm to pass Zeph the vegetables. The noise was overwhelming, but happy, busy and light hearted - a welcome change from the strained meals he'd always been subjected to at home.  
  
After they'd all eaten enough to satisfy even the hungriest of them, Zeph was happily enthroned in the armchair nearest to the fire, where he gleefully watched the childish antics of the others as they played around with their magic. Cub was pretending to be one of the older boys, sending the younger ones that he had been with earlier into hysterics as the older students mistook him for one of them. Excited as he was, Zeph was soon dozing and the laughter faded away. 


	4. Chapter 4

When Zeph woke at last, it was in a comfortable bed in a pleasant, colorful room. Zeph blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked around curiously. It was morning; the sunlight was forcing its way through the lightweight curtains hanging over a large window opposite him.  
  
A rustle startled him from his rather sluggish thoughts. Zeph sat up with a start and swung around to see Cub sitting up in a bed next to him. Cub put a finger to his mouth and winked as he slipped out of bed and crept silently out of the room. Zeph looked beyond the now empty bed to see Rocky, sleeping tightly curled up on a bed on the other side. The gentle snoring Zeph could hear was coming from Storm, lying on his back on a bed on Zeph's other side. Both were definitely soundly asleep, and Zeph doubted very much whether either of them would be stirring any time soon. He looked at his watch: seven o'clock.  
  
Zeph slipped out of bed as quietly as he could and padded out of the door, hoping desperately that he hadn't woken them up. A final backward glance assured him that if either of the pair had been at all disturbed, they gave no sign of it. Zeph found that he was now standing on another landing, with four other doors opening off it. A flight of stairs extended both up and down. After a moment's thought, Zeph decided that downstairs was most likely to lead him to the common room he'd discovered the previous night. He stared around as he went, the silence ringing uneasily in his ears because it was such a startling contrast to the lively bustle of the previous evening.  
  
It turned out that he was right, and the floor the common room was on was the next one down. As Zeph went in, he noticed a few others sprawled reading or dozing lazily on the sofas. One boy was desperately scribbling at the table by the wall.  
"Morning Zeph," Cub said, peering at him over a book. "You're early this morning. We've got another half-hour in bed if we want it, and you were out like a light at nine yesterday. Most of us choose to sleep in when we can, unless, like that idiot Kent, you've not done your prep."  
"Less of your cheek, Cub," said the working boy sharply. He was the one who'd been causing most of the colorful sparks the previous evening. "You appreciated my stuff enough yesterday."  
"But I didn't know you hadn't done your prep then. Come on Zeph, I'll introduce you to the portraits."  
  
Zeph stared at him, not sure whether Cub was mad, he himself was mad or a combination of the two.  
"You'll what?" he asked incredulously.  
"Sorry, I keep forgetting you were Muggle born, you've got so much magic its hard to believe you've not had any training. Wizard portraits can move and talk, not like boring Muggle ones. This one over here's Professor Eberhard," he continued, pointing to a sleeping young man in emerald green robes. "He taught Transfiguration at Hogwarts about a century ago, and he was Professor Dumbledore's favourite teacher. He's nice, and always willing to help you when you get stuck with work, just remember that you always have to call him Professor, else he gets moody."  
"Thank you, young Cub," the painted scholar said teasingly, eyes snapping open. Cub jumped, looking guilty. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, young wizard. How are you known?"  
"He means what's your name?" Cub mouthed at him.  
"Uh, Zeph, Professor."  
"I will be seeing you around then."  
"I hope so Professor."  
  
Cub led him on to the next portrait, of an elderly lady who appeared fast asleep.  
"This is the Old Lady," Cub whispered cautiously, keeping one eye fixed on the painting. "I don't know her name. She bosses us all around, and always favors the girls. The one on that wall is Old Reg, but we have to call him Sir Reginald, or it'll start him off and he sure can roar. The portrait over by the fireplace is Gwen, the Shepherdess, and she always does what Old Reg says. I think she fancies him, Merlin knows why, but she's quite sweet actually."  
"Right," said Zeph, uncertainly. "Shouldn't we start getting up now, or something? It feels like about half an hour's passed."  
"Oh, we've got a few minutes leeway, but I guess you don't really want to be late on your first day. Do you like the room, by the way? I decorated it myself when Peter, Spike and Warwick moved out."  
"Yeah, its great," Zeph said, and meant it.  
  
They found Storm and Rocky now perfectly awake and moving when they arrived back in the dormitory. Cub showed Zeph the drawers allocated to him and pointed out the bathroom door. Zeph opened them curiously, expecting them to be empty, but they were filled with piles of neatly folded clothes. He looked questioningly at Cub.  
"Where did all this stuff come from?" The other boy had a look.  
"Some of it will be stuff that's been passed down from the rest of us, and some Dad will have got last night. I did wonder where he'd got to after supper."  
"He got it for me?"  
"Of course he did, you didn't have nearly enough with you, and you're one of us now so remember it. The stuff you had with you will be in there somewhere. I expect someone will take you to Diagon Alley today to get your school stuff and then you'll be properly sorted. Come on, its almost breakfast time."  
  
Zeph shook himself from his startled daze and carefully put on a new pair of jeans and a red knitted jersey. Cub grinned broadly when he saw it.  
"You've got a Weasley jumper!"  
"A what?"  
"A Weasley jumper. Mrs Weasley's a friend of dad's and she knits them all the time. They're really warm too, so you'll be fine if you go out today. Remember to put on your badge, it's on your bedside table."  
  
Breakfast was a plain and simple affair compared to what they'd eaten last night - a bowl of cereal, some fruit, and a slice of toast if you were hungry - but it was very nice, and good and filling before his full day's work.  
"Uh, thank you for the clothes," Zeph said shyly to Wolf. The teacher smiled at him, and told him that it was nothing. After he'd finished eating, Wolf called Rocky over.  
"You've met Zeph, haven't you? Zeph, this is Rocky. Take Zeph to Diagon Alley to get his things. Here's some money, all you'll need, and a list of what you need to get. Come back by four and treat yourself at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour when you've got everything on the list."  
"Cool, thanks Wolf," Rocky said, smiling at the thought of the anticipated treat. "Let's got then, if you're ready Zeph?"  
"Sure," Zeph said, hastily swallowing his last mouthful of toast and honey. "How do we get there."  
"Floo powder," Rocky replied, leading his new friend through to the common room. "You chuck it in, step into the fire and call out Diagon Alley. I'll go first to show you how it's done, then you follow. I'll be waiting at the other end."  
  
Rocky took a generous pinch of dust from a little pot on the mantelpiece and sprinkled it in the fire. Zeph gasped as he stepped casually into the flames, which had turned a startling shade of green.  
"Diagon Alley!" he called clearly and vanished.  
  
Zeph took a deep breath, took a pinch of the powder, threw it into the flames and stopped on the edge of the fireplace. He extended a shaky hand towards the flames and, when it wasn't burnt, shut his eyes, jumped in and shouted as fast as he could  
"Diagon Alley!"  
  
It felt like he was being sucked down a green, whirling plughole in a bath. Zeph squeezed shut his eyes after a nauseating glance around, and hugged his arms tightly to his chest. At last, he was spat roughly out into a cobbled street. Rocky grabbed him and held him steady while he got his balance.  
"It does get easier with practice," he said reassuringly. "You'll see. Welcome to Diagon Alley, fantastic, isn't it?"  
"Hmm," Zeph said, trying to take in everything at once.  
  
The cobbled street he was standing on wound out of sight on both sides and was filled with crowds of bustling wizards and witches in robes all the colors of the rainbow. Some had decidedly better taste than others - hadn't anyone told that witch that green hair and red robes really did not go? The boys were standing outside a huge, snow white building that towered powerfully above the small shops that were the normal sort of building to be seen.  
"Gringotts, its the wizards' bank," Rocky said, pointing it out. "Let's get your stuff now, then we can look around after lunch. We'll get you some robes first, in case you ever need them. We wear them for Quidditch, and Cub said if someone important visits, we put them on then. In here."  
  
He led Zeph into a shop proudly labeled 'Madam Maulkin's Robes for All Occasions'. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom inside the shop. Rocky led him over to Madam Maulkin herself, a squat, merry witch in mauve robes.  
"My brother needs some new robes, please," he said politely. Madam Maulkin smiled.  
"Will that be anything in particular, dear?"  
"Everyday robes and Quidditch robes. Daddy says he can start learning this year - Tom's been wanting to start playing for years and years, but mum said no until now."  
"Aren't you lucky then, Tom. What colors would you like?"  
"Green please," Zeph said shyly.  
"That's for your everyday robes, yes? And for your Quidditch robes?"  
"Red, if that's okay?"  
"Of course - are you hoping to be in Gryffindor then, when you start at Hogwarts?"  
"Of course he is. I want to be too, when I start in September. I think Gryffindor's the best - it's where dad went too, so we stand a good chance, I think," Rocky said quickly.  
"Ah yes, now, do these colors suit you?"  
  
Zeph nodded when he saw the cloth she was holding up and quickly found himself standing on a small stool having them pinned on carefully to the right length. At last, she looked him over critically.  
"I think that's you done, dear. Come back this afternoon at about two and I'll have them ready for you." Zeph hopped gratefully off the stool.  
"Thank you very much, Madam Maulkin, they're brilliant."  
  
When they were outside again, blinking like bats despite the gloom of the day, Zeph asked,  
"Brother? Tom?"  
"Easier, and Zeph is rather a distinctive name. I suppose its short for Zephyrinus. That was the name of a really famous wizard - Zephyrinus Potter. Anyway, it's easier, since I know my way around and you don't. I get to be older 'cause I have the money. If anyone asks you, say our dad sent us. Otherwise, just follow my lead. We can do your books next. Wolf likes us to have a complete set of Hogwarts textbooks, even if we don't use them so much in lessons, so that we can study on our own. This is it, Flourish and Blotts. Apparently, it's the only decent wizard bookshop around."  
  
The bookshop was filled with shelves towering right up to the ceiling, filled to bursting with books of all shapes, sizes and materials. They looked around while a helpful young shop assistant found the books they needed. When they left at last, tearing themselves away from Quidditch for Beginners, Rocky consulted his list.  
  
"I think we should do your Potions stuff now, then have lunch. That way we've just got to get you a wand before we can go around ourselves. I'd like to go to the joke shop, the sweet shop, and the Quidditch shop if we have time. It says to get a broom if there's a good one for you, but we could do that another day."  
  
After eating lunch in a dark, shabby pub called the Leaky Cauldron; Rocky took Zeph to a narrow, rundown looking shop. Gold letters above the door read 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382BC'. A faint bell rang as they pushed open the shop door. Zeph stared around at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly. The whole place seemed to him to tingle with magic.  
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Zeph jumped; Rocky grinned at his discomfort. A wizened old man was standing behind them, gazing curiously at Zeph with pale, silvery eyes.  
  
"My brother needs a wand, Mr Ollivander," Rocky said, rather awkwardly. "He'll be starting school next year, you see, and dad wants everything done early so we won't forget anything."  
"Ah yes, let's see. Well now, which is your wand arm?"  
"I'm left handed."  
"Hold it out for me, that's it." He measured Zeph from shoulder to finger then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and around his head. As he measured, he explained to them in a dreamy voice about his wands.  
"Every Ollivander wand has a magical core. We use unicorn hair, phoenix feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are exactly the same, just as no two wizards, unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get quite the same results with another wizard's wand."  
  
Zeph realized with a start that the tape measure, which was now measuring the length of his mouth, was doing this on its own, while Mr Ollivander flitted around picking up seemingly random unlabelled boxes from around the room.  
"That will do," he said, plucking the tape measure out of the air with a practiced hand. "Try this wand, nine inches, nice and flexible, it's beechwood with dragon heartstring. Just give it a wave, young man, and we'll see."  
  
Zeph took the wand and waved it randomly until Mr Ollivander snatched it back from him. Wand after wand followed in long succession. Rocky was shifting uncomfortably from leg to leg, but Zeph was fascinated by it all now.  
"Hmmm, tricky customer," the old shopkeeper said. "Don't worry, we'll find the perfect match somewhere. I wonder, try this, holly and phoenix feather, 14 inches."  
  
Zeph took the wand. It felt warm and comfortable in his hand. He swished it and blue and silver sparks burst from the end in a shower that rained down on poor Rocky.  
"Oh bravo, my boy, bravo. Curious though, how very curious."  
"Why Mr Ollivander?" Rocky asked, brushing the sparks off his shoulders.  
"What young man? Oh yes, yes, it's a very rare combination, holly and phoenix feather, and I've only ever sold one other. That was to young Mr Potter, and look what he's achieved. You must be destined for great things, yes, great things." Back outside again, feeling rather spooked by this confident prediction, Zeph asked,  
"Who's Mr Potter?"  
"Hand on a minute, let's get seats first."  
  
Rocky found them seats at the ice cream parlor and bought an ice cream for each of them. Then, licking his chocolate ice every few words, he began.  
"Harry Potter's a boy at Hogwarts, that's the most famous Wizarding School. He's in his fifth year now, so he must be, uh, about fifteen. When he was a baby, this really powerful Dark wizard attacked his family. His parents were killed, but when he tried to kill Harry, he almost killed himself. Harry's got a scar on his forehead because of it - its really famous. While he's been at school, he's saved the Philosopher's Stone, killed a basilisk and won the Triwizard Tournament. He's pretty much the best wizard still at school, from what I've heard. Wolf seems to know him quite well, if you're interested, and look here, in Modern Magical History. You've got the new edition, lucky man, but that's a picture of him in the Triwizard Tournament, while he was getting past a dragon. Amazing, right?"  
"Yeah, have you ever met him?"  
"Me? Course not, we're illegal, remember? Wolf says we will someday, and I can't wait myself."  
  
That afternoon, they bought a broomstick that Zeph carried proudly around, then spent the rest of their money on sweets and headed for home. The house was quiet when they got back.  
"Hello!" Rocky yelled when they opened the front door. "We're back!" Wolf came pounding cheerfully downstairs from his room in the attic four floors up.  
"Have a good time?" he asked.  
"Great!" Zeph said.  
"Good, do you want to start learning now, Zeph? If you work hard, you should have caught up with Rocky and Storm in a few months. They aren't working nearly as hard as they could."  
"I'd love to, thanks, but I don't want to be a bother to you at all."  
"No bother. Put your books in your locker in the common room - Rocky will show you where - and come down to one of the classrooms with your wand and your Standard Book of Spells. Rocky, you could probably do with the revision if you come too." "Okay." 


	5. Chapter 5

Zeph settled in nicely with the crowd of young wizards, and his days soon took on a comfortable routine. Lessons in the morning in a small group with Rocky and Storm. These were taken either by one of the oldest students, or by Wolf himself. After lunch, they often went to play Quidditch in a safe area that they reached using a Portkey. Zeph loved Quidditch - it felt right in a way to be on a broom, and soon he was zooming around with the best of them. Zeph's best friend was Rocky. This wasn't really surprising - they were the two youngest, the newest arrivals and two of the most powerful wizards there in terms of mere magic, not skill  
  
The next major event in Zeph's life occurred when the school had its first visitor a few months after his arrival. They returned one evening to find him seated comfortably in the common room, talking to Wolf as if they were old friends, which in fact they were.  
  
As they came in, the older students greeted him respectfully. Cub, who was now a very grown up young man in Zeph's opinion, let out a whoop of joy and hugged the man exuberantly.  
"Uncle Albus!" he exclaimed with a grin, much to Zeph and Rocky's surprise, since he was always very much on his dignity with them now, since his thirteenth birthday.  
  
Zeph and Rocky stood uncertainly by the door. They appeared to be the only ones not to know him, and both were totally puzzled. This was probably because they were the two newest arrivals, not because their memories were slipping. The visitor was quite tall, with half moon glasses on a face mostly swamped by a long white beard and moustache. His long, flowing silver hair seemed almost to glow in the firelight. Then Wolf noticed them.  
"Come over boys, nothing to be afraid of here. This is Professor Dumbledore, I'm sure you've heard about him. Albus, these are Zeph and Rocky, you probably know their real names or can guess them. They're both coming along very nicely. Rocky shows remarkable talent for Potions of all subjects, and while Zeph is somewhat deficient in that, his Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts are excellent. We'll make him an Animagus in now time."  
"I'm very glad to meet you, boys. Now that I'm here, I'll be staying for a while, so I'll be teaching you some of the lessons and I can get to know you better. I'll have a little talk with everyone here in the next few days, and assess your abilities properly. I expect you older ones to have improved considerably since my last visit."  
"We're pleased to meet you, Professor," Rocky said shyly. Dumbledore had an aura of power about him that would have cowed the most strong-willed of wizards, and they both knew that he was extremely powerful.  
  
Zeph was called up to Professor Dumbledore's room the next evening, since he was the very last on the list.  
"Zeph, please take a seat," the old man said. Zeph gingerly sat on a chair facing him across the fireplace. It was a cozy room, but seemed devoid of any personal items or belongings. Maybe he had some magic way of storing them.  
"Professor?"  
"Zephyrinus Granville-Barker, am I not correct?"  
  
"Zephyr, but yes Professor."  
"A diminutive, it is not what is on your birth certificate I am sure. In what circumstances did you come here?"  
"I ran away from home."  
"Was there any particular reason for that, I know that you didn't have a particularly happy home life?"  
"I almost killed my dad."  
"How?"  
"I wanted wind to test a weathervane, and it almost blew him off the roof."  
"Hardly your fault, I would have thought. No, not your fault at all, so rest assured of that. Your parents are particularly anti-wizard, as I already knew from experience with your brother and aunt, both of whom were also down on the Hogwarts list. Do you like it here?"  
"Oh yes Professor, its brilliant."  
"Even the lessons?" the teacher asked with a smile.  
"Yes."  
"That's good, what's your favourite lesson?"  
"Defense Against the Dark Arts, sir, I like doing all the practical spells."  
"Excellent, have you learned the Patronus Charm yet?"  
"Yes Professor."  
"That's surprising, Wolf doesn't teach most boys that until they are quite a bit older than you. Have you produced a corporeal patronus?"  
"Yes Professor, shall I show you?"  
"That would be good."  
  
Zeph stood up and moved back from the fire. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it straight out in front of him.  
"Expecto patronum!" A burst of fire shot from his wand and shot down towards the door. Then it turned, and Dumbledore saw it properly for the first time. It was a phoenix.  
"Very good, Zephyrinus, very good. Now, what's your least favourite subject."  
"Potions sir, but I am trying, really I am. I'm just not nearly so good as Rocky is."  
"Your friend has exceptional talent for the subject. Just keep working at it. I assume you've studied a babbling beverage?"  
"Yes Professor."  
"And did yours work?" Zeph grinned, remembering how Storm had started jabbering on about the goblin rebellion until Wolf had taken pity on him and given the antidote.  
"Yes sir."  
"Then we have no problems to worry about at all. Are there any questions you'd like to ask me?"  
"What did Wolf mean when he said he'd make me an Animagus in no time?"  
"You know what an Animagus is, don't you? Well, you appear to have considerable talent for spells related to Defense Against the Dark Arts, and that is one of the more advanced spells, more advanced even than the Patronus Charm."  
"Thank you."  
  
"You can go now, I'm sure you don't want to miss your Quidditch."  
"No sir, that's one of the best things about being a wizard."  
"Really, what position do you play?"  
"Seeker, I always have. I've always been able to do it, since my first time on a broom."  
"How very interesting," Dumbledore said, sounding remarkably like Mr Ollivander. "Off you go then."  
  
Professor Dumbledore spent time teaching every group during the next few months, but he spent the most time with Zeph's. They assumed this was so that they got to know the basics very well. With two teachers at once, they worked even faster than they had before, and that was quite an achievement considering their dedication to their studies. Every evening, Dumbledore gave them a short talk about what he called 'current affairs'. He told them about Voldemort's time at Hogwarts and his rise to power, and about the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. But best of all in Zeph's opinion, he told them about the wizard they were all, without exception, longing to meet - Harry Potter. It wasn't just the things they could and had all read in books that he told them, it was also about his escapades at school, his general life, his hobbies and his friends.  
  
It was a good time. Zeph felt brilliant, especially when he was moved up two groups in lessons so he was working with the fourteen and fifteen year olds like Willow. They resented it at first, considering he was such a new arrival, but he was quickly accepted when he proved that he could keep up.  
  
In late June of that year, Dumbledore vanished suddenly with Wolf. They returned about five hours later. The students had gathered together in the common room, generally concerned with the events that might affect them all. Wolf disappeared upstairs as soon as he returned, but not before Zeph had seen tears sparkling on his cheeks. He was shocked, he had never seen an adult cry before (except for his mum, but she was always in tears, so there was nothing unusual about it).  
  
Dumbledore came to talk to them, and specifically requested that all of them listen, even the very youngest who weren't even expecting to be permitted in the room.  
"The war is still going on against Voldemort," Dumbledore reminded them grimly. "It is even worse now. Wolf's best friend was killed today. Tow others who were his friends were killed almost sixteen years ago, and the last of their quintet betrayed them and is now a Death Eater and one of Voldemort's closest followers. He feels that he will be next, but fights on. Voldemort killed my brother himself, and a boy in Harry's class at school has lost his parents into madness. They're dead, all dead or as good as with no hope of recovery. I hadn't meant to mention this to you until you were grown up, but I'd like you to form an army, Dumbledore's Army, Harry called it once. I feel you're too young, but Voldemort attacks children, and you may still be needed when it comes to the final battle. You don't have to do this, I want true volunteers only, and no one is going to put pressure on you."  
  
He sounded tired in a way that they'd never heard him before. For a second, no one moved and they could see his intense disappointment. One by one, hands were raised. His eyes widened as the last of them raised his hand.  
"You're all mad," he said. "But I thank you. Zeph, you will lead this army - you'll be old enough by the time it comes, but you will still be at school, while many of the older boys and girls will not. Do you mind me implanting instructions on how to reach headquarters into your memory? You won't even be conscious of them, unless they're needed, and it won't hurt at all."  
  
Zeph stepped forwards and Dumbledore pressed a cold, clammy hand to his forehead. He held it there for about five seconds before removing it.  
"That was it?" Zeph asked.  
"Yes, but now I must return to Hogwarts. Harry will need me there. Please, look after Wolf. Peter is in charge until he feels well enough to take over, and if he looks sick, send him straight back to bed."  
"Yes Professor," said the eighteen-year-old responsibly. "We'll watch out for him."  
"Thank you," Dumbledore said again, then he raised his wand and with a crack he Disapparated." 


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I'm sorry this is so short, but I needed to put it in, then I ran out of ideas. Thanks for the reviews, and yes, Zeph is meant to resemble Harry. I'll dedicate a chapter to the person who reviews and guesses what the relationship is correctly.  
  
And now, the story....  
  
It came at last in the September of the next year. Zeph was by this time, having applied himself more diligently to his work that Wolf had ever seen a student do, working with boys of sixteen or seventeen, compared to his mere thirteen (his birthday was September 21st).  
  
He had been having individual lessons in the afternoon as well - Dumbledore's announcement had made it imperative that he learned advanced magic very quickly. Their latest challenge had been making him an Animagus.  
  
"Now Zeph," Wolf said patiently at the beginning of their fifth three- hour lesson on it as he had at each of the previous ones. "You know that when you manage to change, you will always be the same animal and that you won't be able to choose or change."  
"Of course Wolf," said the boy, sounding rather bored at this endless repetition. "That is because the animal is the animal which best represents my magic and my inner personality. We've done this all before. Do you really think I'll make it this time? I hope so, and do you have any idea what sort of animal I'll be. I can't wait to find out, but I hope I'm not a rat or an elephant or something totally useless like that. It would be worthless becoming an Animagus if that was all I could manage."  
"Elephants have their uses in battle - Hannibal used them extensively, and I believe he was an Animagus with an elephant as his form. Rats, much as I now dislike them, are good too - they can slip into places where other animals can't and make excellent spies and scouts. They can fight too. As to your other question, I think you're getting closer each time you try. If you don't make it this time I'll be surprised, but even then you certainly will soon."  
"That wasn't really a definite answer, but here goes."  
  
Zeph took a deep breath, and moved his wand swiftly in the patterns he'd been taught. They were almost automatic by now. He fixed his mind carefully on the change. He was desperate to become the first Animagus among the Lost Boys - Cub not counting because he'd been born with the ability - and since Peter was also learning, it was vital that he tried his best.  
  
As he finished the movements, he said the words to the charm that in future, when he was used to it, he wouldn't need.  
"Animago Mandatum!" As he said that, he wished desperately for it to work, and not just produce the odd red feather as it had in the past, although even that had been an achievement at the time. His body suddenly shot downwards. It, well it didn't exactly hurt, but it felt really odd - a bit like very bad pins and needles but in his entire body.  
  
When the feeling died away, Zeph shuffled his new body awkwardly. It was small, that was easy enough to tell, and his arms had been replaced by sweeping red wings. He jumped enthusiastically, flapping energetically, and nose-dived straight into Wolf's arms. The teacher was laughing, mostly from high spirits, but partly because his student looked so awkward.  
  
Zeph lost the shape - he was finding that it took great concentration to maintain. Wolf dropped him abruptly, an adolescent boy was much heavier than a bird.  
"So," he asked eagerly. "What was I?"  
"A phoenix!"  
"Wow. what did I look like?"  
"Amazing," Wolf said, teasing gently, "that is, until you tried to fly. I think these lessons will have to continue you for a bit - you're a hazard until you learn. Would you like me to find a mirror for you, that is, if you think you can do it again?"  
"Of course I can," Zeph told him boldly. "You said it got easier and easier after the first time, until it comes naturally, so I'm going to see if I can get to that stage soon. I need to, really, there won't be time for all that wand stuff in a battle."  
  
Wolf left, smiling indulgently. Zeph was usually a pleasure to teach, he'd let him have his moment of excess before he calmed down. The boy straightened his shoulders proudly. He was the King of the Birds: magical, handsome, prized by great wizards like Dumbledore, the emblem of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. the list went on and on!  
  
When Wolf at last came back with the mirror, Zeph managed to change back and spent an enjoyable five minutes strutting around in front of it, admiring himself and preening with delight. He didn't try to fly again; he wasn't going to spoil the feeling of his moment of triumph by attempting something he couldn't do. Peter was going to be so surprised! 


	7. Chapter 7

"Zeph," Cub whispered one evening soon after Dumbledore's departure. "Zeph, I've forgotten to take my potion!"  
"Potion?" Zeph asked. He was already tired from the day, and hoping that Cub would leave him alone so that he could get to sleep at last now that he was in bed.  
"The Wolfsbane Potion, I'm a werewolf, remember, and if I don't take the potion, its not safe to be around me, and tonight's the full moon! What shall I do?"  
"Wolf?"  
"He'll have taken it, he always remembers, and he'll be locked in his room by now."  
"We'll have to sort it ourselves then," Zeph said resolutely, slipping out of bed.  
  
He pulled on his clothes and went over to the beds where the other two boys were sleeping.  
"Wake up, Cub's forgotten to take his potion. Go through to one of the other dormitories, and lock the door behind you." They left abruptly, definitely not wanting to be around a werewolf at the full moon, not that they were at all scared, of course, it just wouldn't be very pleasant.  
"How long have we got?" Zeph asked.  
"About five minutes, I think - it starts at moon rise, and ends at dawn." Cub looked absolutely terrified now.  
"Cub, have you ever had this happen to you before?" Zeph asked, suddenly worried.  
"N-no," the other boy gulped. "There was always the Wolfsbane potion, even when I was a baby. But, why aren't you going? It's not safe!"  
"Its safe if you're an Animagus, and I am now, and if you thought I was going to leave you to cope alone, you're wrong." "Please, will you put silencing charms around the room, I don't want the others hearing anything." "Okay, and I'll put a strengthening charm on the door as well."  
  
Then they stood there, looking at each other in silence. There was nothing either of them could do at all. Zeph, although he wasn't going to admit it, was absolutely terrified. He'd been told by Wolf that their teachers friends had become Animagi to keep him company, and that he was more human around them, but there was always an exception to a rule.  
  
Cub screamed. His body went rigid. His limbs began to shake violently.  
  
Zeph flicked quickly into his Animagi phoenix form. He flew over - many hours of lessons had perfected that - and perched on the other boy's arm. Cub stopped screaming, gratitude clear in his eyes. The change was happening now.  
  
Cub's ears were growing longer and pointed, he was sprouting hair all over his body, he was growing, and his fingernails became claws. Zeph sprung up into the air as his friend's clothes split as his limbs became more muscular.  
  
The transformation was complete. Zeph stared at him in amazement. He was a werewolf, a young one and quite small, but a werewolf for all that. Cub roared. Zeph flew down to him and dug his claws into his back. He was very glad that phoenixes possessed a few powers like that as he lifted him into the air and held him suspended there, lashing out at the empty space below him and quite obviously terrified.  
  
They stayed there for a long time.  
  
For even longer.  
  
At last, the light of the dawn shone in through the window and the werewolf's body dwindled in size once more. Zeph dropped him lightly onto the bed, then lost control himself and, a human once more, fell on top of him. Cub looked terrible, and that wasn't an exaggeration. His face was gaunt, his eyes looked amber and haunted and he had scratches and bruises all over him. Zeph was at least unharmed, if exhausted.  
  
It was over, and they were both safe.  
"Zeph," Cub said hesitantly. "Are you okay?"  
"Yes," said Zeph, his eyes shutting despite his best efforts. "You?"  
"Okay, thanks to you."  
  
It was six o'clock in the morning, so they returned to their respective beds and slept.  
  
They were woken at nine o'clock that morning, when Wolf, now perfectly human again himself, unlocked their door to find them sleeping peacefully, relatively unharmed. He breathed a sigh of relief and went gently over to his son.  
"Tad?" he whispered.  
"What is it?" the boy groaned, opening his eyes. "Morning, dad."  
"You forgot to take your potion, didn't you?"  
"I . yes, but I'm not ever going to do that again. It was awful dad, really it was."  
"I know," Wolf said. "Believe me, I know."  
  
At that, the boy broke down and cried for the first time in years, remembering all of the pain of the night and the pain that remained with him that morning.  
"Dad, it was Zeph who helped me. Please, can I tell him?"  
"Tell him what?"  
"The most secret thing a Lost Boy has," Cub said, citing a tradition that had been established at the very beginning of the school, where one slip could cost your friends their lives. "My name."  
"He's saved your life once, what more can you ask? Of course you may. Being who he is, he'll tell you his, so keep his trust as he'll be keeping yours."  
"Yes dad. Shall I wake him?"  
"Well, let's put it this way. It will be your responsibility if he discovers he's missed half of the day."  
  
Cub slid out of bed past his father, and gentle shook Zeph awake.  
"Cub?" he asked. "You okay?"  
"Of course. Thank you for last night, I doubt I'd have made it without you."  
"Oh, don't worry. Anyone would have done it if they could."  
"I'd disagree with that," Wolf said, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. "It takes great courage to be with a werewolf at the full moon, courage that my friends and you had in great measure."  
"Zeph," Cub continued. "I'm going to thank you the only way I can. My name is Thaddeus Lupin, keep it well for me."  
"You gave me your name!" Cub grinned and nodded.  
"Then you can look after mine. I'm Zephyrinus Granville-Barker. I won't tell you the rest of it, its best forgotten."  
"Zephyrinus," Cub said hesitantly. "Okay, I've got it. I'm your man as long as you need me, Zeph. You already command me in Dumbledore's Army, but I'll actually follow your commands now, and the others will too." 


	8. Chapter 8

"BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!"  
  
Zeph dropped his textbook with a start and sprinted like a shot upstairs to the common room. A red light was flashing ominously on the wall, and the sound was screaming out from it. Zeph gasped, and charged back down, where he began to issue his orders calmly. He was fourteen years old.  
  
Since the oldest boys like Peter had left, Zeph had ended up as one of the leaders, he'd never quite worked out why, and now that Wolf was away recruiting for the Order of the Phoenix in Australia, they were on their own. He must be in charge and organize the others, or they'd be too late.  
"You all know where to go," he said. The others listened to him seriously. "Take your wands. Storm, take the new ones, and go in small groups every thirty seconds. Run! Cub, Rocky and Willow go last. I'll go to HQ and find out what to do."  
  
Zeph grabbed his wand from his desk as he passed, charging out towards the door, rapidly casting a Disillusionment charm on himself as he ran. As soon as he was out of the front door, and hopefully invisible, he transformed into a phoenix and 'CRACK' he was gone.  
  
He reappeared with another flash a second or so later, outside another large house in a dark gloomy area of London. It looked a very unlikely place for the headquarters of an order of light wizards, fighting endlessly against the dark, but here goes.  
  
He switched easily back to his normal form, removed his charm and pounded heavily on the door. It was opened a second later by a red haired woman who gaped mistrustfully at him. She had her wand out ready to attack him. He did look somewhat suspicious, he thought, with his naturally messy hair and scruffy clothes - as always when Wolf was away, general standards had dropped considerably.  
"I'm a Lost Boy," he gasped. "The Death Eaters have been summoned!" She went pale, then at once controlled herself and was all business. She snatched a small statue off a shelf. She shut her eyes for a second, then told Zeph to take hold of it.  
  
It was a portkey. He found himself in a large basement ringed with a single row of pegs, like his old school cloakroom. On these were hanging a number of long white robes.  
"Quick! Listen!" the woman shouted above the general panicked chatter. The room fell silent at once. "Who's commander? Okay, who's the strongest wizard." There was a moment's silence.  
"Zeph, Dumbledore said you were the commander, didn't he?" Cub asked.  
"That's you?" she asked Zeph. He nodded. "Then start moving boy! We've not got much time." That helped him immensely. If she'd been kinder, he felt he'd probably have collapsed with nerves, but this stern tone steadied him and he was able to start.  
"Angie, Trent and Brat, go over by that wall. You aren't fighting; you'd be killed in an instant. Help if you can while we get ready, then stay here!" he instructed promptly. The three youngest children went over to the wall.  
"Good," the woman said, appreciating his speed. "We've got to intimidate them, else they'll never take heed of a bunch of kids, since they don't know your skills like I do. Dumbledore wants you as close to identical as possible, and spooky. White hair, white clothes and a white robe from the wall. You can all manage to do that? Good. Zeph, you need to take silver instead. Thaddeus Lupin, you're the metamorphmagus, aren't you?"  
"Yes Mrs Weasley."  
"Do white, but as identical to Zeph as possible. You two will be the ones they'll see the most clearly. Come on! Zeph, Harry doesn't know about you lot; work out how to tell him and Dumbledore who you are without You Know Who guessing it."  
  
Zeph grabbed the one silver robe hanging by the door and pulled it hastily on. He glanced down at his clothes and muttered a single word to change their color.  
"Aglens!" He then tapped his hair and it too shimmered silver. The woman, Mrs Weasley Cub had called her, was running around helping the others bleach themselves properly. He turned Cub white, then stood still to let him copy his features as accurately as possible. In no time at all, they were formed up in neat rows and standing on a silver cloth Mrs Weasley informed them was another portkey.  
  
Zeph clutched his wand tightly as they were jerked out of the cellar to a new location. He looked around, his face thrown into shadow by his deep hood. They were in a field somewhere. On the far side, black robed figures were Apparating one by one. In the center of the field stood Voldemort himself. Facing him was Harry Potter, with Dumbledore standing closely behind him. Behind them were some adult wizards, supposedly from the Order, and Harry's two closest friends. It was a rather pitiful group compared to the solid ranks of Voldemort's Death Eaters.  
  
Everyone was staring at Zeph and the Lost Boys, people on both sides looking equally fearful and confused. Zeph, standing alone at the front of the ranks flicked almost casually into his phoenix shape and his own side regarded him with a good deal less dismay and more desperate relief. At a whispered command from him, they flicked back their hoods and everyone stared at them even more.  
  
Zeph gave them a moment to consider it, then marched slowly forwards, Cub pacing in time behind him. They knelt theatrically in front of Harry. It was only then that Zeph saw a number of prisoners, including Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, chained up in Voldemort's lines. It was not looking good.  
"We are Dumbledore's Army, the Lost Boys and servants of thy will, Lord of the Light. I am the commander. I come to you on the West Wind, and we humbly await your divine command and stand ready to carry out your every bidding and slay for you those who dare to stand in your way."  
  
Dumbledore's wrinkled face showed no signs of recognition, but when he saw that Harry was totally bewildered, he replied readily enough in the same archaic form.  
"Fly on then, Zephyr, and dispose of our foes."  
  
Zeph winked at Harry, who appeared speechless from the shock, and strode back to his own lines after an ironic bow to Voldemort. A few gestures with his wand and the battle began. The wizards of the Order ran to catch them up, their irretrievably hopeless position salvaged by a band of about twenty odd children.  
  
Zeph squared off grimly against Lucius Malfoy, who he had been told often was regarded by many as Voldemort's second in command and the leader of the Death Eaters.  
"Avada Kedavra!" the man shouted, pointing his wand at Zeph as a green bolt shot from it.  
  
Zeph smiled negligently. The only way to defeat that curse, other than to have someone die to save you, was something now considered common knowledge among the Order. That was to love and be loved. Zeph had learned, with great difficulty, to love and honor his enemy to add some extra security, and he knew that the love and respect of his friends protected him too. Malfoy looked horror struck as Zeph laughed unfeelingly. With one swipe of his wand, Zeph swiftly disarmed him and sent a lightning bolt streaking through his heart. It was a quick and easy death, far more than Lucius Malfoy had granted any of his victims and Zeph felt no guilt at all at providing this fitting end to the Death Eater's life.  
  
One by one, the Death Eaters were falling, through their own overconfidence and a great reluctance to break from the conventions of traditional duels, which the Lost Boys had long since discarded if they'd ever known the at all.  
  
In the center of the field, Harry was fighting Voldemort, aided by Dumbledore's own energy pouring into him like wildfire. He was holding his own, but now more, and Zeph gasped as he stumbled.  
  
Harry fell heavily. His wand snapped with a resounding CRACK! Zeph knew that it was all over now. Harry was staring at the shards of his broken wand unbelievingly. Suddenly Zeph knew what he could do to help him.  
"Harry!" Zeph yelled, remembering Mr Ollivander's cryptic comments. Harry whirled with instincts honed on the Quidditch field, and caught the wand as Zeph plunged back into the fray, fighting on with wandless magic, something he'd only just begun to learn, and with his fists as Muggles had done for centuries.  
  
Suddenly there was stillness, as five of the Lost Boys brought down the last Death Eater and Voldemort fell to the ground. Then Zeph watched, horror-struck, as Harry toppled slowly to the ground.  
"NO!" Zeph screamed. They couldn't have won the war, only for Harry to die, could they? 


	9. Chapter 9

He was alive, it appeared, but only just. Zeph limped slowly over to where Harry lay, bleeding heavily on grass that was as much red as green. Voldemort he could see was dead; wizards were already preparing to incinerate the body. Ron and Hermione were kneeling by Harry, both crying as they said what they knew must be their final farewells. They drew back slightly as Zeph came over, wary of the strange, otherworldly boy. Zeph could see the dying boy's face growing pale, and almost translucent.  
"Stay away," Ron said warningly. "I'm warning you."  
"Ron," Harry said weakly. "Let him through."  
  
Zeph found himself caught in Harry's gaze, looking into eyes that looked too old and sad to belong to a boy of seventeen. At last, he was released and Harry smiled faintly.  
"I'm as safe with him as I am with you. Zephyrinus would never do anything against me, or against my beliefs, and he's already saved my life once."  
"Harry," Zeph said solemnly and meaningfully. "Is there anything I can do?"  
"Kneel down, that's it. Hold my left hand to your forehead and put your wand in my other hand."  
"Okay," Zeph said, not understanding at all. When they were sorted, Harry said as firmly as he could manage.  
"Zephyrinus Potter filius meus ist."  
  
The wand sparked and shot of energy flooded into Zeph's body through the hand he was holding to his forehead. There was a searing pain in his forehead and he gasped.  
"Harry! Are you okay?" Hermione asked anxiously.  
"I'm as well as I'll ever be. Carry on my work for me, cousin, and don't be sad because I'm going to see my parents and Sirius again at last. Zeph, if they start crying, hex them. I think you'll fit in very nicely at Hogwarts, and you'll be having especial fun in Defense Against the Dark Arts, mark my words. Goodbye, you lot, live long lives and be happy, or I'll come back and haunt you." Then the last light left his eyes, and Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, died after a battle on a field stained with blood.  
  
Zeph wiped his eyes, and watched as Ron reached slowly out and shut Harry's eyes for the last time. Harry's two friends made a noticeable effort to pull themselves together and not start crying, but they managed it even if they did look very pale. Dumbledore had fainted, and was lying a few meters off. A couple of medi-wizards were already with him.  
"Are you always like that?" Hermione asked.  
"What? The silver? No, I'll sort it."  
  
Zeph tapped himself with his wand and the colour flooded back into his body. The older boy and girl stared at him.  
"Harry," Ron said quietly. "Blimey, you look just like Harry!"  
"I do?"  
"Yes," he continued, looking like he'd seen a ghost. "Black messy hair, green eyes, scar - its all there."  
"Well, I guess we must be cousins or something, that's what he said. We'd better get everyone to Hogwarts, no one else will be able to at this point."  
  
That was perfectly true. The participants in the battle were either collapsed on the grass having their wounds attended to by healers that someone had fetched, or cremating the bodies of those less fortunate on both sides. Zeph pulled himself to his feet and picked up a length of rope that the Order had used to get everyone to the right place.  
"Portus!" he said, tapping it. Then he went over to the old Headmaster. "We won sir, it's over."  
"But we lost Harry," the wizard replied, looking ancient and grieving. "Take us home, Zephyrinus. I put us in your charge."  
"Yes sir, he said he'd be happy now, with his parents and uh Sirius?"  
"He will be, but that doesn't make it any easier." Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted again.  
  
Zeph sighed. Why did Dumbledore think he should be in charge of everything.  
"Kent!" he called into the silence. "Would he and four others stay and see to the bodies, please. Everyone else come over here please, we're going back to Hogwarts on Dumbledore's orders."  
  
As the others came crowding over, he draped Dumbledore's arm around his shoulder and with Ron's help managed to get him upright. Hermione and an Order member were carrying back Harry's body. Cub and Rocky were the first to join them, and soon relieved Zeph of his burden. When everyone was holding on, Zeph activated the portkey. They shimmered for a second, then vanished.  
  
They appeared en masse in the middle of the lawn just outside Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A crowd spilled out of the old castle that Zeph had previously seen only in his dreams. He stared at it wonderingly. Students (and teachers) stared openmouthed at those of the Lost Boys who hadn't changed to their normal colours again. Well, they did look a bit zany.  
"We won!" people were calling from the crowd. "Voldemort's dead at last!" One of the teachers came rushing over.  
"Albus!" she said, rousing Dumbledore anxiously from his unconscious state again. "Are you all right? Is You Know Who dead? Oh my God, Harry! He's in two places."  
"Please calm down, Professor McGonagall," Zeph said calmly, knowledge flooding into his head from some unknown source. "I am Zephyrinus. The war is over and we won. Harry died killing Voldemort, but he is at peace now and told us not to grieve because he is with his parents. He died with the knowledge of victory and thought his sacrifice a small one for what it achieved."  
  
Then the last remnants of his dwindling energy failed him and he pitched forwards onto the soft ground. People rushed forwards to grab him. As he was levitated gently in with the other wounded, the last thing he heard before drifting into unconsciousness was a discussion about enrolling them formally at Hogwarts. Zeph was going to school at last. 


	10. Chapter 10

The next thing Zeph knew, he was waking up in a totally unfamiliar room - he could easily sense wherever he was in the old house where they all lived, by sound and smell. From the penetrating smell of antiseptic and the feeling of crisp sheets, he guessed it was probably the infirmary, and given the circumstances, the one at Hogwarts was the most likely. When he finally got around to cautiously opening his eyes just enough to see the bare minimum, the whiter than white appearance of the room confirmed his suspicions.  
"Hey Zeph," Rocky said - he was sitting in a chair next to Zeph's bed, looking very comfortable - and Zeph looked at him warily out of the corner of his eye. "You awake yet?"  
  
Zeph groaned quietly to himself, his friends were getting far too good at guessing when he was awake despite his pretenses which had always worked before - he'd hoped to get possibly another five minutes of peace, just enough for him to wake up properly, but that was unlikely.  
  
He sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable as he sat up.  
"Yeah, I think so. What have I missed?"  
"Well," Rocky began. "We're in the Hogwarts infirmary at the moment, knowing you, you'd probably guessed that. They carried you in here when you keeled over in the middle of the field. It was a very dramatic introduction, I thought. Was it deliberate?"  
"No."  
"Sorry," Rocky said, feeling slightly embarrassed. While he or Cub might have done something like that, shy Zeph wouldn't and he shouldn't have suggested it. "All of us are here for now," Cub continued from Zeph's other side. "It was a convenient place to keep us all while they decide what to do. We're all joining Hogwarts too, 'cos there's no need for us to be secret any more. Dad's coming back too, because now Voldemort's dead, we don't need the new recruits."  
"We'd probably better tell you who we've lost. I saw you with Harry Potter earlier, but the Lost Boys have . . ."  
"Who?" Zeph demanded, not wanting to hear the answer but knowing that he must.  
"Storm, Kent, Blaze and Peter," Rocky said at last when he realized that Cub couldn't say it.  
"Peter?" Zeph said sadly, remembering the boy who'd been one of his first teachers and mentors among the older students. Serious Peter, who was always working hard and never indulging in pranks with Kent. Peter, who they'd all respected and befriended, from the youngest of them to the few boys that had left before Zeph had even arrived. "Damn Voldemort! And poor Blaze was only a kid - barely twelve. He'd only just started to learn. I should never have let him near the battle, its my fault that he died."  
  
Neither of his friends knew quite how to reply to that one.  
"It is not your fault," Wolf said firmly, appearing around the curtains surrounding Zeph's bed. "If it was anyone's fault, I'd share the blame equally with anyone else. He wasn't a child - none of you are, any more - he knew exactly what he was doing, it was his choice and he made it himself, just like the rest of you. Who knows, if he hadn't been there, we might have lost the battle, lost everything that he wanted to fight for."  
"I suppose you're right," Zeph conceded.  
"I know I am."  
"But I still feel that it's my fault."  
"I would think less of you if you didn't. You were his commander, and he looked to you for leadership. He died well however, just like Harry did, and he wouldn't have wanted you to wreck your life feeling guilty for him, so don't. Its like Harry said, Blaze's parents died a few years ago, and he'll be with them, even though they were Muggles. In death, all are equal."  
"Yes Wolf."  
"It's not Wolf now, Zeph, its Professor, remember?"  
"Yes sir."  
"You're too obedient for your own good, or is it just an act?" Lupin asked mock suspiciously.  
"Neither," Zeph said seriously, not willing to be distracted. "When are they being buried?"  
"They were wizards, so they were honorably cremated on the field of battle. Harry was the only one we brought back, because else no one would believe he was dead. I envy him, in some ways. . ."  
"Harry Potter said not to mourn. I'm not going to, and neither should you," Zeph said firmly, determined that, since Harry had died so they could be safe and happy, they were going to be. "Um sir, what's your name? I know you're Mr Lupin, because Cub told me his name, but what's your first name please, if you don't mind me asking."  
"I thought you might be," Zeph admitted. "Harry gave me a message for you. He said to tell you that he was going to be with Sirius and his parents again at last. It seemed like he felt sorry for you."  
"Quite likely, he did. He understood people far better than they gave him credit for," Remus Lupin told him gently. "Harry is at peace now, at the end of a hard, torturous life when he saw many of his friends die fighting for him. He couldn't stand that any more than you can. But he's with James, Lily and Sirius now, and I have to wait until my time comes. They were my three best friends when I was younger, and they've all been gone a few years now, killed in the fighting. Harry never knew his parents, I'm glad he'll have the chance to now."  
  
Zeph quickly decided that now would be a very good time to change the subject to something safer before the conversation got too emotional.  
"So, do we have to do anything about joining Hogwarts?"  
"You don't have to do anything, Zeph, you've done quite enough work already. I'm going now, and I'll sort everything out with the assistance of the other teachers." With that, the wizard left, as silently as he'd come. Rocky looked after him, then decided that it might be a good idea to answer Zeph's question slightly more fully than Remus had done.  
"We get uh Sorted, I think its called, into the four houses. We're doing that this evening. There, now you know as much as the rest of us, Captain Zeph."  
"Do you have to call me that?"  
"Of course," Rocky replied, grinning at him.  
  
Just then, the infirmary door opened and the bed curtains drew back with a swish, supposedly from a flick of a wand, since they saw Dumbledore come in, looking sad.  
"All awake now?" he asked solemnly. "It's almost time for you to be getting up and ready for the Sorting. You're lucky you've all arrived in the autumn, so there won't be too much work for you to have to catch up on. Now, you're all down on the registers with your proper names, and I'd like you to spend the next few minutes trying to remember them. I realize this will be a change for you, but the security is no longer necessary, and you can't expect teachers to call you such things as Brat, can you?"  
"Depends on how much trouble you're in," Rocky muttered to Zeph. Dumbledore's eyes flicked over to them, twinkling, although he'd spoken so quietly that even Zeph had had problems hearing.  
"Zephyrinus, a word please."  
  
Zeph pushed himself out of bed, scowling at the sound of the unaccustomed name, one that he'd never been called before to the best of his knowledge.  
"Are you feeling okay sir?" he asked, remembering the condition the headmaster had been in when they brought him back to Hogwarts.  
"Oh yes, perfectly all right thank you. You look much better yourself. Now, I need to know exactly what Harry did to you to give you that scar."  
"Well, I'd gone over to check if he was alive or dead. Ronald Weasley objected, because he didn't know me, and Harry looked at me. I couldn't look away. Then he stopped, and said that I would never do anything against his beliefs and told me to kneel down, because he couldn't reach otherwise, and hold his hand to my forehead. I did that but I didn't know why he wanted me to. Then he held his wand, my wand actually - his was broken - in his other hand and said 'Zephyrinus Potter ist filius meus', or at least, it was something like that, the words might be wrong."  
"I believe it might have been Zephyrinus Potter filius meus ist," Dumbledore suggested. "In this case, the word order would be quite important."  
"Probably," Zeph agreed. "Well, it must have been some sort of charm, because I felt something coming into me through his hand. Then he said 'carry on my work, cousin, and don't mourn because I'm about to see my parents and Sirius again. Hex those two if they start crying. Zephyrinus, I think you'll be having fun in Defense lessons this year.' He was talking about Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger when he said 'those two', but I think he meant it for everyone else too. Then he died."  
"Thank you. Tell me, are you a Parselmouth, Zephyrinus?"  
"Me? No sir, I'd have told you if I was. Wolf checked me when I was small."  
"Serpensortia!"  
  
A black snake shot out of the end of Dumbledore's wand and flew through the air towards Zeph, landing on the floor just in front of him and slithering on. He did what any ordinary person would do under these circumstances: he panicked.  
"STOP!" he yelled, why he didn't know. The snake stopped with a start, and Dumbledore casually waved his wand. It vanished in a puff of smoke.  
"I thought so," he said smugly. "I believe Harry has transferred his magical power into you, and one of the powers he has, given to him by Voldemort years ago, is that of a Parselmouth. He recognized something in you today that was like him, and he made you his heir."  
"Me!?!" Zeph asked incredulously. "But he only saw me for about a minute!"  
"That is so, but Harry learned through much hard work to be a skilled Legiliments - that would be how he learned your name and why he was so certain of your character. I'm curious myself as to what he discovered that you yourself don't know. . . He has paid you a high compliment, and I expect you to live up to it. I also have a certain suspicion that, being Harry, he gave you some of his knowledge as well, so don't be surprised at what you know. Now we'll go on to the next issue. You're a problem."  
"Why?"  
"You know far more than a wizard of your age should know for a good few years yet. It would be ridiculous for me to put you in with students your age - you'd sleep through the lessons - but equally odd to put you with those who are your ability, but so much older than you. You seem to have been working on NEWT courses in almost every subject! The choice is up to you. You must decide whether to be placed in a class by your age or by your ability."  
  
Zeph thought carefully about it for a moment.  
"If I chose ability, would I still be able to see Rocky?"  
"That would be young Richard Andrews? Yes, I should think so, especially if you're in the same house."  
"Then ability please."  
"Excellent. I'll see you later at the feast. Please warn your compeers not to be worried about the surname they are given by the Sorting Hat. To be a strong enough wizard to need to be taken in by Lupin, usually, but not always, means that you're the offshoot of a wizarding family. The law at the moment is that such a child may, if they so choose, take the name of that family. I have especial suspicions about your identity Zephyrinus, but I won't say a word."  
"Please, sir."  
"No Zephyrinus, I'm not telling you anything along these lines that is purely guesswork on my part, with very little solid evidence."  
"Okay. Well, thanks for the warning, anyway. I'll tell the others, or at least, I'll try to. I'm not sure if they'll listen to me - I am only fourteen."  
"Oh, I think they will, young Zephyrinus," Dumbledore said softly, watching his departing back. "You're their commander now in far more than name, just as I intended you to be." 


End file.
